


Carried Away

by anemu



Series: Carried Away [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, fat reader, overweight reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:30:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2504588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anemu/pseuds/anemu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Think of every man you’ve ever been with, and understand; I am genetically superior to them all.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carried Away

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second fic. My first one is a mess, but I feel really really good about this one. Undecided if it should remain a one-shot or be continued. Let me know what you think.

The film ended with the hero lifting his lady love into his arms, and carrying her off into the sunset. I sighed, curling myself deeper into Bucky’s side and nuzzling him contentedly.  
“I take it you liked that one, eh?” Bucky asked, while gently stroking my hair.  
I nodded, feeling a doofy smile appear on my face, “It’s just too bad real life is never as magical as films.”  
Bucky leaned away from me, trying to see my face. His eyebrows were slightly furrowed, as though I’d said something baffling,“How do you mean magical? It was just a simple boy meets girl kind of story.” His voice got softer suddenly, “I’d thought our story was kind of magical.”  
I realized I’d hurt his feelings. “Bucky,” I said softly, “of course our story is magical, and miraculous, and utterly our own.” I sat up a little bit, looking at my…lover? It didn’t feel right to call this man my boyfriend, but the term “lover” always gave me the creeps. Whatever we were, it was serious, and every day I had with him was a gift. “All I meant is that films are idealized. I mean take the ending: he picked her up and carried her away. Things like that just don’t happen.”  
I began to lose my train of thought. I was never very good at arguing my point. I always managed to dig myself into an accidental hole. “…not to girls like me at least” I’d said it under my breath, while looking away from him, but I knew he’d heard. Shit.  
“What do you mean?” He just sounded curious, but his body had stiffened a little and he was staring intensely into my face.  
“Huh?” I tried feigning ignorance; this really wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have with him. Things had been going so well over the last few months; I didn’t want to risk it by bringing my baggage into the open. “I feel like tea, would you like a cup?” I quickly stood from the couch and started making my way toward the kitchen when I felt his hand wrap around my wrist. That stopped me, and he began to pull me toward his lap. I managed to shift myself just enough to land next to him rather than on top of him.  
“(y/n), what do you mean by ‘girls like you’?” His gaze was intense, burning a hole right through my forehead and out the other side. My brain was scrambling for any explanation other than the truth, but my brain was fried and my meaning started spilling out of me without warning.  
“Fat girls.” I stated it simply, with no emotion in my voice. It was always better to make people think you were okay with the term. If they think you’re comfortable, they don’t use it. I broke our eye contact however as I continued, “I’m not saying that fat girls can’t have romance, because I like to think that I’ve experienced my fair share of romance, but there are just things that don’t happen to girls like me. We…I…just don’t get swept off my feet and carried to the bedroom. I’m a big girl, a heavy one. I’d throw out the back of any guy who tried. But its not a big deal. Different people have different experiences and I’m just not the kind of girl who gets that particular experience.”  
I chuckled at myself, smiled at Bucky, and stood again. He didn’t try to stop me this time, but rather watched me move from the living room and into the kitchen to put the kettle on. While I waited for the water to boil, I leaned over the kitchen sink muttering to myself in the reflection on the window. I was mortified. The body image conversation is never a fun one, but it seems to be unavoidable. I shut my eyes, and hung my head.  
I heard a soft click behind me, and turned to see Bucky standing there having turned the burner off. “Is it boiling already…?” I asked. Bucky shook his head slowly, before taking two silent strides toward me.  
He was so close now; my breasts were pressed against his abdomen, my face parallel to his chest. He leaned down, pressed his lips against my temple in what I can only describe as a reverent kiss, and whispered hoarsely into my ear, “Think of every man you’ve ever been with, and understand; I am genetically superior to them all.” I could feel the smirk he must have worn.  
He wrapped one arm around my back, and before I could protest he’d bent slightly and swept my knees with the other arm. I squeaked and grasped at his shirt. I could feel the cold metal of his arm on my back, but I knew it would soon warm with my body heat. I was floating. Finally accepting that he wasn’t going to drop me, I opened my eyes and looked up into his face. He wore a smug smirk, and had the nerve to wink before he turned around and steered us toward the bedroom.  
When we reached the bed I expected him to let me down, stand me on my feet and say something smart about having made his point. Instead I found myself unceremoniously tossed onto the bed. As I bounced, and recovered from the shock of the fall I thought to myself, there’s another thing I never expected to experience. Regaining my composure I looked toward Bucky, and the sight of him gave me pause.  
The look in his eye was almost feral, he was a starved man faced with a juicy slice of prime rib. The look made me uncomfortable. The look made me feel powerful. “Bucky?” he hadn’t moved or blinked in minutes and I was beginning to worry.  
“Girls...like you…can have anything they could ever desire. You, can have anything you’ve ever wanted. You just have to answer one question.”  
I nodded, interested in what he had to say, “Can I have you?” I smiled and began to answer, but he cut me off, “I mean all of you. Can I have you writhing underneath me, coming apart without thinking about how your belly is jiggling as violently as your breasts? Can I have you, on top of me, riding me like a stallion without worrying about hurting me? You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.” The last was stated with an undertone of menace. I stared into his eyes, all intense fire and nodded; it was all I could do. “I want you (y/n). I want you to sit on my lap anytime you have a whim, and I want you to bare yourself to me without trying to hide in the dark. I’ve seen all of you. I love all of you.” He stopped there, eyes shifting from intense gaze to questioning, and uncertain.  
I sat up on the edge of the bed and took his hands in mine, “I’d love to be that girl for you.” I stated awkwardly, “I’d just love to be that girl. But its not something I can just decide to be. It’ll take time, and work, and a level of understanding from both of us. I love you too Bucky, you know that. I just need help loving myself from time to time.”  
Its not like our sex life had been dull, the lights were always on and the sheets were always off. He’d seen more of me than any other person alive, and I knew he liked what he saw, what he felt. He smiled down at me, his flesh hand stroking my cheek while his metal one reached for the hem of my shirt.


End file.
